


The Price of Changing History

by chardes, Quicksilver_ink



Category: Radiant Historia
Genre: Blood, Fanart, Fanfic, Gen, Suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chardes/pseuds/chardes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilver_ink/pseuds/Quicksilver_ink
Summary: Stocke and his injuries at the end of his first mission with Raynie and Marco.





	The Price of Changing History

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2015 on Tumblr as part of an art-story prompt exchange. Art prompt by Chardes; ficlet by Quicksilver-Ink.

 

Stocke took deep breaths as Marco and Raynie talked plans for celebrating their first successful mission. He was lightheaded with the relief. He’d seen them fall, but here they were, bickering playfully about who’d buy the first round of drinks.

 _So… This is the way history should have gone…_  Abruptly, he felt his legs tremble, and felt the pain of his wounds from Palomides, pushed to the edge of his awareness by adrenaline, slowly returning. He’d lost a lot of blood, too, he remembered distantly – the lightheadedness had not been simply relief.

Within moments, he could barely stand, his vision going white.  _Of course changing history wouldn’t come without a price_ , Stocke thought, and slumped to his knees. Still, it was absolutely worth it to have saved his subordinates and protected the agent and his information.

His companions’ voices turned urgent, but his ears were filing with a roaring and it was hard to hear what they said. His name, called frantically, and someone tried to offer him support.

“A-Are you two…safe…?” he managed. He could hardly hear his own words.

Raynie’s face filled what remained of his vision. “Yeah, Stocke, we’re fine. See? No holes in me.” He tried to look where she was gesturing, but it was a grey blur. His tenuous hold on consciousness was slipping. “It’s all thanks to you…”

“Good…” he said, or tried to, but the world slipped away.


End file.
